


got my brain in a daze

by lovelit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Slytherin Harry Potter, Using Magic to Enhance BDSM Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelit/pseuds/lovelit
Summary: Riddle’s wand flashed down, suddenly, to rap over Harry’s fingers like a cane. Which, ow, and alsonotproper wand usage, what the hell. He turned his head to glare up at Riddle’s face, and if Riddle didn’t have him gagged with his own tie then he might have followed that up with more than a few words. Failing that, he might have followed it up with a rude gesture, except for the fact that Riddle also had Harry's hands tied firmly behind his back.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 8
Kudos: 300
Collections: Obedience and Trust Flash Exchange





	got my brain in a daze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



Harry probably ought to know better than to trust Tom Riddle. Everyone knew he was bad news, both inside and out of Slytherin. And Harry’s family might have gotten over their initial reaction to his own Slytherin sorting - or, well, confidentially, his mum might have hexed his dad and Sirius before they could actually say anything to him about it, back when he was still eleven and scared of their reactions - but he was pretty sure that… whatever this thing with Riddle was, it’d probably stretch the limits of even his mum’s acceptance.

The problem was that Riddle was too attractive for his own good, he’d actually expressed an interest in Harry, albeit in a roundabout way, and that Harry might have been a Slytherin but he’d definitely inherited a more Gryffindor approach to impulse control. That is, very little in the way of it.

Hence the duels, which had just been a good way to work off steam and practice for exams. Or, at least, that was how Riddle had floated it. Right up until Riddle had caught him with a nonverbal Incarcerous, hauled him up by the ropes - which had been hotter than it had any right to be, even if Harry was _pretty_ sure he’d used another nonverbal spell to make it easier - and kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry, while he was still reeling.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d kissed back as soon as he’d gotten his head about him. Or, at least, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it in the privacy of his own head. Although maybe he ought to be, considering he was absolute pants at Occlumency. Not ashamed to admit it in the privacy of his head while not making eye contact with anyone, then.

Riddle’s wand flashed down, suddenly, to rap over Harry’s fingers like a cane. Which, ow, and also _not_ proper wand usage, what the hell. He turned his head to glare up at Riddle’s face, and if Riddle didn’t have him gagged with his own tie then he might have followed that up with more than a few words. Failing that, he might have followed it up with a rude gesture, except for the fact that Riddle also had Harry's hands tied firmly behind his back. Incarcerous again. The bastard was too good with that one.

Anyway, he had to make do with the glare. But he made eye contact, and if Harry was pants at Occlumency then Riddle was, in turn, disturbingly good at Legilimency. And not shy about using it, either, so Harry was pretty sure he’d get the point across just fine.

Sure enough, Riddle rolled his eyes as he stepped around to be in front of Harry again, though he kept eye contact once he was still again. Which was about what Harry had expected, considering that Riddle didn’t seem to have a single sympathetic or apologetic bone in his body.

See, again, why this was a terrible idea even if Riddle _was_ unfairly hot.

“I can always let you go, if you’re so bothered?” Riddle offered, his tone casual, like it didn’t matter.

Possibly because he could probably have his pick of the school if it came down to it. Probably because he knew Harry wouldn’t take him up on it. Prick.

Riddle snorted, tapping his wand lightly against his own hand. “Message received, Potter.”

And then his expression turned thoughtful, which was almost always a precursor to something both incredibly hot and very inadvisable.

This time, it was a precursor to Riddle asking, “Do you trust me, Potter?” He kept his tone light, and kept on tapping his wand against his hand as he watched for Harry’s reaction.

Which. Well. He _shouldn’t_. Especially when Riddle was clearly asking because he had something in mind, and agreeing that he trusted him would absolutely mean Riddle going ahead and setting whatever it was in motion. Without telling him what it was beforehand, knowing Riddle.

So answering in the affirmative would be ill-advised. Absolutely. He’d shake his head no, and Riddle probably wouldn’t care either way, because it wasn’t like knowing Riddle was bad news didn’t extend to Riddle himself. It would be no problem at all.

Harry nodded. 

Because he was ridiculously curious about what Riddle had in mind. And because he apparently had absolutely no self-preservation instinct at _all_ , given that he… actually did trust Riddle. Or, at least, he trusted that Riddle was enjoying himself enough with this whole thing that he wouldn’t do anything both terrible and irreversible. Probably. Hopefully.

Riddle smiled down at him, which was equal parts attractive and terrifying. And then he tapped his wand more firmly against his hand, the end sparking for a second, and leaned forward to haul Harry up from his knees by the ropes around his chest. He didn’t leave him upright for long, though, only pushed him down so that he was on his back on the floor. Which wasn’t particularly comfortable, considering that it was the stone floor of an abandoned classroom and that his arms were now trapped underneath him, but Riddle didn’t seem particularly inclined to care about that.

He also promptly distracted Harry from that by kneeling down and straddling him, the tip of his wand pressed to Harry’s throat. Harry’s breath hitched, lying there with Riddle staring down at him. He looked like some kind of hunting predator, with his pupils all blown wide and following every twitch of Harry’s face and throat. Probably just as deadly, too, even if he hadn’t had his wand there.

Harry wasn’t sure what Riddle was waiting for, whether he was looking for something in Harry’s face or just letting the moment linger. Before he could get impatient, though, Riddle murmured a spell, too quiet for Harry to hear, and Harry couldn’t breathe.

It was— horrible, really. It wasn’t like having his face covered or his throat constricted so much as it was like his entire body just forgetting how to breathe. It was definitely a dark spell. Almost certainly illegal, actually. Focusing on that was slightly less terrifying than focusing on the inability to breathe.

Riddle just kept on watching him, eyes focused on the way Harry arched and let out desperate, half-sobbing noises through the gag as he tried to force his lungs to work. Reaching out, torturously slow, he pulled the tie away from Harry’s mouth - not that it helped - before finally murmuring a counter-spell.

Harry gasped in air desperately, now that his lungs would actually cooperate again. Riddle was still watching him as though Harry was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. It probably ought to be unsettling, all things considered. It _really_ shouldn’t be going straight to Harry’s cock. As usual, his body hadn’t gotten that memo, and he was absolutely rock-hard.

Which Riddle was clearly aware of, considering where he was sitting and also the smug look on his face.

He tapped his wand against Harry’s throat, lightly but enough to make him shudder. “More, Potter?”

There was probably a world out there where Harry would have had the willpower and the good judgement to say no. It definitely wasn’t this one, because all he actually managed to do was squirm underneath Riddle and say, “Untie my hands first.”

Riddle arched an eyebrow, appraising. He shrugged a moment later, though, banishing the ropes around Harry and only raising his eyebrow further when Harry’s hands came up to grip at his hips.

“Go on, then,” Harry muttered when Riddle didn’t do anything more.

That netted him an amused look from Riddle that was much too smug for his liking. It also netted him Riddle casting the spell - curse, probably - before he could actually open his mouth to say anything more.

It wasn’t quite as horrible, now that he knew what was coming. It was still unsettling, the way the spell made his lungs just refuse to listen to him. He did trust Riddle to let it up, though, if only so he could keep doing it. And having his hands free helped, being able to grip Riddle’s hips hard enough to bruise. Not to mention the extra leverage to grind up against him.

Riddle settled into something like a rhythm with his spell. The longer Harry spent under it, the harder he’d dig his fingers into Riddle’s hips automatically and the more desperately he’d buck his hips up to grind against Riddle’s ass. It would get to the point where he thought he couldn’t take a moment more of it, and then Riddle would let it up. Harry would just start to get his breath back, and then Riddle would cast again.

It kept on, over and over until Harry lost count. He was hard enough to hurt even more than his straining lungs, and on his next gasp of air he managed to bite out, “I’m— shit, I’m close. Tom.”

Riddle went very still above him. When Harry managed to force his eyes open, it was to Riddle just staring down at him, an odd expression on his face.

He recovered a moment later, back to his usual put-together expression. “I wasn’t aware we were on a first-name basis, Potter.”

Which, Merlin, Slytherins and their ridiculous social rules about names. That was something that six years in the house absolutely hadn’t beaten into him, even if it made half of his housemates mutter about terrible manners and Gryffindor-raised idiots. At least Gryffindors didn’t insist on exclusively using surnames with the people they were fucking.

Well. Not that Harry had ever fucked a Gryffindor, but you had to assume.

He rocked his hips up against Riddle’s ass again, only stopping when Riddle’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Does it really matter right now?” he tried instead. With his best puppy-dog eyes in place, not that they’d ever worked on Riddle. “You can punish me for the terrible manners later, if it’s that much of an issue.”

The look in Riddle’s eyes told him immediately that that was a mistake. Mostly because Riddle looked practically gleeful, which was never something that had ended well for Harry.

Riddle leaned down slowly, until he was close enough that Harry could feel Riddle’s breath against his skin.

“Or,” he murmured, nearly a purr, “I could punish you _now_. Since you’re offering.”

Before Harry could react, Riddle was flicking his wand and enunciating a spell very, very clearly into Harry’s ear. A spell that Harry was much too familiar with, because it was a hex that Riddle apparently loved hitting him with. Presumably because making him incapable of getting off for an hour always ended up being the most frustrating thing Riddle could do to him.

Harry was pretty sure Riddle got off more on making Harry’s life difficult than on fucking him, sometimes.

With his orgasm unattainable now, Harry only growled and let his head flop back against the stone floor - ow - as Riddle stood up and brushed off his robes.

“I hate you,” he told Riddle. He thought it sounded pretty believable, under the circumstances.

Riddle only laughed, though, all the smug and charming prefect again.

“You keep telling yourself that, Potter. And don’t forget to use your cloak on the way back to the common room. I’d hate to have to dock points for you being out after curfew, too.”

Well. At least he could flip Riddle off from the floor as Riddle left the room. He had that, even if it didn’t much make up for not getting off.

(Or for his dignity, for that matter.)


End file.
